


Gasp

by AutisticWriter



Series: One-Word Whump Prompts [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Chapter 2: Horseshoe Overlook (Red Dead Redemption 2), Coughing, During Canon, Fear, Ficlet, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, No Dialogue, Pain, Sick Character, Sickfic, Terminal Illnesses, Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), tuberculosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:26:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25792063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: Thomas has a violent coughing fit in the middle of Valentine.
Series: One-Word Whump Prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871002
Kudos: 5





	Gasp

As the sun begins to sink past the horizon, Thomas stumbles out of the bank, his now-empty lock box tucked under his arm. Mister Strauss told Thomas to use his charity collections to pay off his debt (with the threat of someone coming to ‘collect’ his debt if he doesn’t pay his loan back soon), but he can’t do that; he can’t betray the kind townsfolk who donated money to his cause. But it still felt awful inside the bank, judgmental stares burning into him, silently shaming him for his debts.

A harsh, crackling breath pulls him from his thoughts, and Thomas braces himself for one of his horrific coughing fits. Sure enough, his lungs burn and he hunches forwards, hands pressed to his chest as he splutters and heaves. Pain flares through his tight chest, sweating soaking his skin and his pulse roaring in his ears, and his head pounds in agony with every cough. It’s endless, violent coughs scratching his raw throat, mucus popping deep in his lungs as he gasps between the coughs, trying desperately to breathe but getting more and more lightheaded with every passing second.

When his knees give way, wobbly legs crumpling beneath him, the wet mud of the street soaks through the legs of his pants, chilling his skin. But he barely notices, lost in pain and trying to fight off the unconsciousness his foggy brain craves.

And when he can finally breathe again, Thomas hacks up a mouthful of thick, bloody mucus, spitting the foul stuff out and trying to gasp for the air his lungs don’t want to take in. Somehow, he drags himself to his feet, watery, bloodshot eyes avoiding the stares from onlookers who did nothing to help him. The foul taste of blood and mucus clinging to his tongue, Thomas staggers towards his horse, wondering if he can even make it home, and not letting himself worry about what will happen to Edith and Archie when he isn’t here anymore…

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/WriterAutistic)


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